Fireside by Susan Wiggs (pdf e book reader txt) 📗

the subject was so beaten down, he’d do anything to get the shoot over with. He was shivering by the time they got back inside. Mercifully, they let him scrub off the makeup and brush out the hair spray. After he put his street clothes back on, he found Daisy and Kim going through the shots on the laptop.

“These are just what we need,” Kim said, stepping back so he could see the screen.

He winced. There was something painful about staring at shot after shot of himself, especially those that inadvertently revealed something. “Do I really look so pissed off all the time?” he asked.

“That’s not anger,” Daisy said.

“It’s intensity,” Kim agreed, clicking through the frames. “And here—that’s yearning, and this one is smoldering.”

Bo flushed. It was one of the fake-sweat shots. They had misted him with water and shot him with his jersey unbuttoned. “Yeah, that’s me, smoldering.”

“We’ve got some happy shots, too.” Daisy showed him. “You look good when you laugh.”

“Everybody looks good when they laugh.”

She shook her head. “You’d be surprised.”

The outdoor shots looked weird to him, but according to Kim, that was what made them good. The contrast between the baseball uniform and the arctic surroundings was striking. He looked as if he’d landed on another planet.

“It’s stunning work.” Kim pointed to a shot of him walking toward the camera with a purposeful stride, his long hair fanning out behind him, his eyes intensely blue. “That’s my favorite.”

The frozen waterfall created a dramatic backdrop, glittering in the setting sun. “Yeah, I love that,” Daisy agreed. “And this one, where he’s throwing a snowball like it’s a winning pitch.”

“Thanks, Daisy,” Bo said.

“I appreciate the work,” she said. “I’ll have all the re-touching done by the end of the week.”

“You’re just like your mom,” he said. “Hardworking and talented.”

At that, she laughed. “Sorry, I’m not used to being compared to my mom.”

That surprised Bo. Daisy and Sophie were cut from the same cloth—fiercely smart and ambitious, determined to balance work and family.

“You’ve been great,” Kim said to Daisy, then turned to Bo. “You were totally right about her. What a find.”

“I’m surrounded by talented women,” he said. “I just can’t beat you girls off with a stick.”

“Right.” Daisy carefully stowed her camera equipment.

“You’re going to see these photos everywhere,” Kim said. “I’m sure of it.”

Olivia Bellamy Davis, who ran the resort, arrived to see how the shoot had gone. Clicking through the frames on the laptop, she gave her stamp of approval. “You made him a star,” she said to Daisy.

“No, I made him look like a star,” Daisy clarified. “Kim is the one who has to make him a star.”

“Hey, what am I?” Bo asked. “Chopped liver?”

All of them responded in unison: “Yes.”

“Okay, I’ll shut up.” He made himself useful, helping Zach lug the gear to Daisy’s van. A few minutes later, Kim and the others came out.

“Can you stay?” Olivia asked. “I can offer you a drink and a soak in the hot tub.”

“Sounds tempting,” Daisy said, “but I have to pick Charlie up by six. He’s been with his dad all afternoon.” She noticed Kim’s expression and said, “Charlie’s my son. He’s a year and a half old.”

“I hope I get to meet him one day,” Kim said. “I love kids.”

Bo studied her face. She’d told him sometimes a diplomatic lie worked better than the truth. Ever since, he found himself wondering about some of the things she said—like I love kids.

As the van pulled away, Olivia turned to Bo and Kim. “What about you two?”

“Sure,” said Bo. Dino had taken AJ for pizza and bowling, so there was no hurry to get back.

Kim elbowed him in the ribs, hard.

“She’d love to,” he added, pretending he hadn’t felt it.

“Great,” said Olivia, and led the way.

Fifteen minutes later, they found themselves in borrowed swimsuits in a big hot tub under a gazebo at the lakeshore. Olivia was the ideal hostess, serving chilled champagne and then—conveniently—disappearing.

“Nice place,” Bo commented, tasting the champagne. Honestly, he preferred beer, but he remembered what Kim had taught him about being a good guest. He floated in the comforting heat of the water and looked around at the wilderness surrounding the camp, now purple in the twilight. A few of the lakeside cabins were occupied, and a good number of diners were at the restaurant in the distance, visible through the glowing windows. “I’ve never been here in the winter. Last summer, when the place reopened, I came up to teach a baseball clinic.”

“When I was a kid, I used to mark off the days on my calendar until I could come here.”

“I wish I’d known you back then,” he said, picturing a girl with knobby knees and fiery red hair.

“No, you don’t,” she said. “I was a brat.”

He leaned his head back against the edge of the tub, watching her through half-lidded eyes. “My favorite kind of girl.”

“A brat?” Steam swirled up from the surface of the water surrounding her.

Setting aside the champagne glass, he slipped his arms around her, pulled her close and said, “You. You’re my favorite kind.”

“Bo—”

“Hush. Wait a second.” He moved to the opposite side of the hot tub, bringing her with him and turning her so they were both facing the lake. “There, that’s better.”

“What’s better? What are you doing?”

“I want it to be perfect the first time I kiss you.”

“The first…Why?”

“Because it’s important and I want to treat it that way. I want you to remember that the first time I kissed you, the moon was coming up over the lake, and it was so quiet we could hear the snow fall, that we were in the most beautiful spot on earth.”

“But why?” she persisted, but the tremor in her voice told him she understood.

“Because you’re different from other women. We’re different, together. I’ve kissed women in cars and movie theaters and on their front porches, and under the bleachers after a game. Never in a place like this.”

“I don’t…know what to say to that.”

“You’re